


If I Break (Into Smaller Pieces)

by justawks



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Character Study, Depressing, Gen, I Don't Even Know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justawks/pseuds/justawks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Di Angelo. In Latin it means God's Angel. How fitting.</p><p>or</p><p>the one in which Nico becomes a Grim Reaper, of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Break (Into Smaller Pieces)

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of depressing, and really short, and not edited at all.
> 
> I'd like to thank google translate.

She'd been working at the bar (Rudy's) for the past two months. It was pretty standard (pretty sad). Lonely men and, well...more lonely men filled the tables each evening like clockwork, moving through beers, to scotch, to some sort of repulsive vodka mixture. At closing they'd stumble through the doors, mumble goodbyes to their comrades in depression, and move on down the cold streets of New York.

This was the pattern, the normalcy she'd come to expect. This was the way it was for two months.

But on the fateful Saturday, the 11th of December of God knows what year, this pattern would break.

He was small, and younger than all the other patrons by a solid 20 years. He claimed he was 22, but if she'd had to guess, she'd say 17. His skin was olive, but looked a sickly yellow in the dingy light of the corner. His hair was dark (obsidian, the fanciful part of her brain murmured), and it hung in limp sheets in front of his eyes. His features were delicate, and looked Mediterranean. His eyes were a solid black, no shimmer or shine or underlying colors. Just black.

He nursed a scotch, looking out of place in his black jeans, black t-shirt, and worn bomber jacket. He had on rings, skulls and bits of metal and bright gleaming jewels that made her want something, anything more from him. 

She approached slowly, the thick wood of the bar that separated them giving her false confidence.

"Hi." she whispered.

He looked up, and her blood ran cold. Wars, screams of death, blood, blackness; it all flitted behind her eyes as she held his gaze.

"Hi." he whispered back, voice deeper than she expected.

"What's your name?" 

He waited a breath, a sighed deeply before answering. "Nico. Nico di Angelo."

"God's Angel." she said immediately. 

"Huh?" he asked.

"God's Angel," she repeated. "It's what your name means."

He gave her a look, and she smiled. "I'm a Latin student."

He nodded, as though he had known this. "How fitting..." he mumbled. 

"Pardon?" she asked. He just shook his head.

"Can i talk to you, outside?" he asked suddenly. She nodded slowly. 

She led him out the back, steps short and breaths shorter. She could feel his eyes boring into her back.

She held the door open for him, but he didn't say thank you.

He turned those black eyes on her. "Your going to die tonight." he said.

Her blood ran cold. "What?"

"I'm not going to kill you. But...you will die. Just a warning." 

Then he was gone.

***

It was later that she understood. The truck had come out of no where. She'd seen it coming, pushed the child in front of her away, and felt the impact as though she were partially numb, or watching it from outside her body.

***

Hours, minutes, seconds later, she was standing in a dark room facing a man on a throne. She thought maybe she was supposed to fear him, but his face was familiar. He too had dark eyes and that long obsidian hair. There was a swirl, the faint sound of screams, and a boy appeared beside him.

"Nico."

The boy nodded. "Father."

The she understood.

"God's Angel." she muttered. Nico smiled.

How fitting.


End file.
